


Drop Dead Time

by itsjimfromit



Category: Whiskey Cavalier (TV)
Genre: Season Finale, Series Finale, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjimfromit/pseuds/itsjimfromit
Summary: Mild spoilers for the series finale regarding Ray. Proceed with caution.





	Drop Dead Time

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a very, VERY long time. I just haven't been able to make the words come. I watched the series finale tonight, and I'm a mess. I truly hope another network picks up this show. It's funny, full of heart, and just great television. Ray spoke to me tonight. Or, rather, I felt a connection with a character I haven't felt in a long time.
> 
> There are very mild spoilers for the finale. Mainly what happens with Ray midway through, but not the outcome.

To kill himself had crossed his mind.

The problems it would solve, the wrongs it would absolve him of. But, then, he wouldn't really be absolved, would he? He'd simply be gone, cease to exist. It had a certain draw to it, non-existence. Nothing would matter then, not really. The moment his heart ceased to beat, what happened next wasn't up to him. He'd have no input, no say.

And having nothing to say? Well, that had a certain draw, too. He talked too much. Everyone knew it. It was overcompensation, a way to cope. Sure, the irritation was often clear on their faces, but it meant that they'd heard him, that he existed. It wasn't about confidence; he had that in spades. No, it was about belonging. And simply put, he didn't. If their postures and their expressions and their comments hadn't given it away, Frankie had. She'd cut the brakes to his car, had nearly killed him. "We're not here to talk about who did or didn't cut your brakes, Ray," she'd said after he confronted her, eyes cold, "What you did to Will is unforgivable, and he's too decent to say this, but I'm not. You'll never be a part of this team." She was right.

He'd never belong again, not after what he'd done to Will. The betrayal, the  _hurt_ \- Christ, he'd never forgive himself. Will never would. No matter how hard he'd tried, they'd never go back to Paris, before it all went to shit. They'd never go back to working together, as a unit, as a well-oiled machine. He'd belonged then, really, truly. With Will at his side, he could do anything. But then he'd gone and fucked it up, just like he did everything else. The only thing he hadn't fucked up yet was Susan, and even then, it was only a matter of time.

She pretended that she didn't enjoy his company, that she wasn't attracted to him, and maybe she wasn't. But to be on the receiving end of her smile, her eyes, her wit-

There was nothing like it. He felt alive, like he belonged. She was good for him, but too good for him. He knew he'd only push her away. That's why he'd pursued Gigi. She was unattainable, and her unattainability is what drew him to her. He could never truly have her, not the way Will had. And when he lost the two of them? Well, that was what he deserved, wasn't it?

He shakes these thoughts from his head physically. His neck aches where Ollerman jammed the needle, the particles, into his bloodstream. He's dizzy, lightheaded, fear pushing to cancel out coherent thoughts. He'd seen what would happen to him, the unimaginable agony. He was too cocky to admit it, but he was afraid. He didn't want to die. He still had so much to do, some much to see, so much of Susan to explore...

Another thought comes to him then. The only thing forcing the team to do as Ollerman instructed was him. He was a human bargaining chip, flesh and blood insurance that the team would do as they were told. A burden. A risk. Even as Susan reassures him that he'll live, he's almost certain he can see the resentment, the hesitation. He wonders if it will hurt her to see him die.

He could, he muses silently. He could die. He wasn't  _depressed_ , no, not suicidal. He wants a future, hell, he  _has_ one, maybe with Susan in it. Maybe Will will forgive him. He wants to live, feels the adrenaline pumping through his veins and making his heart race. He's too cocky to die. But. Well, he can't help but think. It wouldn't be a sacrifice, not really, but something like it. His death would suspend Ollerman's hold, create enough of a diversion for the team to take out the others. His death could  _mean_ something, perhaps more than his life did, or would, or could be. But he was thinking simplistically, in black and white. Life didn't work that way. But if there were a chance? The slimmest of hopes?

To kill himself had crossed his mind.   


End file.
